New Shoes and Virginity Lost by
Marchioness of Dorchester (circa 1650)
One day, twas June as I recall
A hue of morning dew
clung to my very form,
with all its secrets anew,
The virgin in me hovered,
though to her I felt distain
I wanted more than I dare say
Dear reader, I longed for play.
A gentleman,
Bold in his doublet and hose,
Caught sight of mine shoe,
So shapely and new.
His strengthening ardor rose,
I saw his longing face
So showed some lace
A shocking
Stocking!
With all its promise of pleasure.
Perhaps,
a new,
adventure.
Entranced by mine ankle so delicate and rare,
His eyes,
like bees to nectar,
lingered there.
I, demure and coy, feigned innocence well,
Yet mischief danced within his spell.
With a subtle lift of skirts, I did reveal
A glimpse calf, for passion's steal.
The gentleman's breath hitched,
pulse quickened pace,
As if Cupid himself had aimed true with ardor's grace.
He longed to touch that ankle.
Oh to kiss its curve,
To unravel the mystery it did preserve.
And so the virgin, her so doomed,
As the gent, up knee and calf then went
To a place I remember,
So divine
A place of plunder unconfined.
©2024 Sarnia de la maré FRSA
Marchioness of Dorchester (circa 1650)
One day, twas June as I recall
A hue of morning dew
clung to my very form,
with all its secrets anew,
The virgin in me hovered,
though to her I felt distain
I wanted more than I dare say
Dear reader, I longed for play.
A gentleman,
Bold in his doublet and hose,
Caught sight of mine shoe,
So shapely and new.
His strengthening ardor rose,
I saw his longing face
So showed some lace
A shocking
Stocking!
With all its promise of pleasure.
Perhaps,
a new,
adventure.
Entranced by mine ankle so delicate and rare,
His eyes,
like bees to nectar,
lingered there.
I, demure and coy, feigned innocence well,
Yet mischief danced within his spell.
With a subtle lift of skirts, I did reveal
A glimpse calf, for passion's steal.
The gentleman's breath hitched,
pulse quickened pace,
As if Cupid himself had aimed true with ardor's grace.
He longed to touch that ankle.
Oh to kiss its curve,
To unravel the mystery it did preserve.
And so the virgin, her so doomed,
As the gent, up knee and calf then went
To a place I remember,
So divine
A place of plunder unconfined.
©2024 Sarnia de la maré FRSA
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